


Detour

by Lattemi



Category: Ice Climber (Video Game), Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Childhood Friends, Declarations Of Love, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Romance, a little excuse for me to write fluff for no reason other than to make me :), also ocs will actually appear instead of just being mentioned yayyyy, takes place after journey; before smash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lattemi/pseuds/Lattemi
Summary: Vignettes of moments the boy in blue and the girl in pink encountered in the aftermath of their journey.(Set after "Journey", before their entrance into Smash)
Relationships: Nana/Popo (Ice Climber)
Kudos: 5





	Detour

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back~  
> Back again~  
> Temi's back~  
> Tell a friend!~
> 
> It's been a few months since I finished Journey, but I keep to my word. This is just the next of many fics I have planned with my faves ;w;
> 
> ...Or rather, it's a collection of fluffy oneshots. Just to give Nana and Popo a break from the hassle of their journey! Consider them like those bonus ~special~ episodes of an anime or something.  
> I'm not sure how many chapters/oneshots I plan to include in this; it's subject to change. I'm setting myself a limit of 15 for now though. I can't say how often I'll update this either - probably as ideas for oneshots appear or something qwq
> 
> Most of em'll probably be painfully cliche, but I'm a sucker for those, so I might as well xd I hope you enjoy this first entry into the collection. Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

"Alright, that's enough for today. Class dismissed."

Lively murmurs of chatter fill the room the moment those words leave Mrs Meunna's mouth as we're released for the rest of the day ahead, with a few hours or so until dark. Little by little, people rush to retrieve their parkas and belongings, eager to get out to enjoy the gentle snowfall ongoing outside. It's a heavy enough spectacle to cause a fuss, but thankfully light enough to not be a huge pain to wade through on the way home. The pure white weathers of Yukino are all too familiar a sight to me.

I get up from my desk, packing away my books into my satchel when I notice a familiar pink parka approaching me in the corner of my eye:

"Hurry it up, slowpoke. We're gonna miss the snow!"

I turn to Nana, who stands with her arms grumpily crossed, armed with a playful pout as she raises an eyebrow at me.  
"Ah, yes, as if this is the first time _ever_ it's snowed in our little village," I reply sarcastically.

No sooner than later does another whine join in, from a little ways further back in the room. It's delivered by the childish, high-pitched voice of a certain curly-haired blonde stood in a red rendition of Nana's parka, most of its details and fur linings matching hers. To complement the shade of her coat, she dons a similarly coloured red headband in her hair behind her fringe – a stark contrast to her glaring green eyes as she frowns at me.

"Honestly, Popo. You're such a killjoy sometimes," Miko groans, rolling her eyes. "I don't know how you survived all those months up those mountains with a guy like that, Nana."

"Tell me about it."

" _Okay_ , okay, I'm almost ready." Grabbing my own parka from the coat pegs, I secure it onto myself and pull my hood over my head, slinging my bag over my shoulder. By now, the classroom's near-empty (save for the presence of myself, Nana and the Qajuuns) and the chairs and desks have been left in complete disarray from our peers' frantic rush, scattered all over the place into the wrong places.

Even Riko chirps in with an impatient huff. "Please. I just want to go home."  
He's not much taller than his twin, sporting similarly messy golden curls under a parka whose blue is significantly paler than my own, though his hair has a slighter waviness to it quite unlike Miko's frizzly hair. Stood with his back leant against the wall by the doorway, he looks more than ready to fall asleep.

"No one said you have to wait with us," Nana scoffs.

"Whatever. Let's get going."

We make our way out of the small school building into the fresh cold, squinting a little as the blinding white bursts out before us as the door opens. Apart from some familiar merchants and villagers strolling past here and then, the amount of people out and about is scarce; while the joy of the snowy drizzle tends to lure out the younger children of the village – or slightly older kids like ourselves, occasionally – most of the elders see it as nothing but a bother to their work, the drops of white often forcing them to retreat back into the sanctuary of their homes. Even the few sellers passing by are doing anything _but_ selling, clearly on their ways back to their inns.

Riko immediately strides ahead of the rest of us, though I'm in no rush to get back. Miko doesn't bother to follow after him the way she might have in our younger days, instead lagging behind with me and Nana.

"Must feel weird going back to this routine after all that time, huh?" she asks, looking towards us with curious eyes.

Nana chuckles a little as she stretches her arms out in front of her. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," she laughs. "It's nice to not worry about being eaten by Nitpickers every two seconds, though. Right, Popo?"

"You said it." I'm briefly taken back to our countless endeavours up countless mountains, back to countless moments where I found myself on the brink of death, countless moments where _Nana_ was on the brink of death-

I shudder at the thought.

"It's honestly amazing how you both even _survived_ out there for so long," exclaims Riko from ahead, turning around to face us. "I mean, you don't have much more climbing experience than the rest of us, but somehow you got up Icicle Mountain – _the_ Icicle Mountain – and killed a giant bird. That's not a feat most _adults_ could pull off."

A smirk creeps onto Nana's face. She grins, boasting, "Well, Popo and I _do_ make quite the dream team," as she playfully punches me in the shoulder.

While she's seized every possible opportunity to recount our various adventures and misfits in the peaks of Taimo, I haven't been as willing to retell the story of how we both fell several hundred metres from the sky on top of a mountain and barely survived the aftermath. Not to mention the bizarre resurrection after _that_.

_The two of you shall be bound together._

Those vague, eerie words have echoed in the back of my head day and night since we returned to Yukino: that mysterious deep voice still resonates in my eardrums, resounding like the taunts of the howling wind that day on the summit. But no matter how much it echoes throughout my thoughts, I don't climb any closer to the meaning of those words, words that sound so comforting yet so strangely ominous to me, and I'm left to endure the endless ringing in my ears as I ponder over them.

My patchy memory doesn't help the situation either. That string of words alongside some other peculiar terms here and there are all that remain etched into my memory. Whatever else the dubious voice might have said remains as much of a mystery as the perpetrator of the voice itself.

"… po. Popo. _Popo_. Hellooo? Are you there?"

I blink, startled by Nana's incessant prods and nagging. As I bring myself back to reality, I notice that we've already walked the distance to Miko and Riko's inn – a large, established family-owned business renowned in the area, especially since Yukino is one of the larger villages in this part of the region.

"Lost in his thoughts as usual," Riko sighs, already at the door.

I scratch my head awkwardly. "Sorry about that. Were you saying something?"

"I was asking if you wanted to hang out for a bit," Nana replies. "Since Miko and Riko have to help out today."

Miko nods at that statement, sighing tiredly. "Mom wants us to help the tavern get back on track now that we have the harvest back. We've lost a lot of custom since the condor ransacked everything."

She seems to wince at the memory of the attack, quickly looking away afterwards. Neither the condor's ambush nor the ensuing famine can be remembered fondly by anyone in the village, of course. Even the chaos and terror of that distant memory still echoes in my head alongside the millions of clouding thoughts.

We were just lucky no one was lost.

For a few days after, most people were kept fed by the hidden rations of food still stored inside some of the taverns (or what was left of them); the beastly bird hadn't targeted the cabins so much as it had the farm reserves on the outskirts, where the village's supplements are grown earlier in the year. The farmers had only just been in the process of harvesting the fresh crops when it decided to strike.

Nana and I had only been able to make one brief return to Yukino from the first nearby mountain we'd chased the condor up – though we'd failed to retrieve the main harvest sack, we'd trailed after what few remains of the contents had been left behind in its flight (nothing but a few stray vegetables) and decided to at least _try_ to help keep the dwindling nourishment stock refilled back home. After that, the village had no choice but to seek the aid of nearby tribes to exchange food, according to Riko. People only had so much money for the merchants who were less inclined to donate to the cause.

" _Miko! Riko!_ Is that you out there? I need you in here right now!" a shrill voice from inside the inn hollers.

"Coming," the twins reply in unison. They both turn back for a moment to wave goodbye before hurrying inside, leaving me alone with Nana.

She grins back at them and briefly turns to look at me, before saying, "Let's go."

* * *

The snow's started to relax now, falling at a slower pace than it'd been when we got out of school. Under a sky whose clouds are gradually clearing away, the two of us continue our walk on the way home, along the snowy path we've trodden year after year together, taking the same steps the same way we always have.

But recently, we took a different turn on the path, and the steps are starting to change.

I've never been good with words. Not since I was little, and not now either. Whether it's stuttering over what I want to say or not being able to string sentences, it's not something to be particularly proud of. The lengthy lectures my mother would berate me with are etched too deeply into my brain for that. Yet somehow, despite my clumsy words, she heard them, and what I wanted to deliver from my heart from the longest time reached her at last – or at least, I can only hope it did. I know well enough my wording isn't _ever_ all that crystal clear. But there are some things only Nana seems to be able to understand despite all of that.

We haven't actually properly talked about that small exchange of words since we got home; understandably so, since we've both been relatively engrossed in our own problems on top of the crisis of reforming the village back to its comfortable, functional state. Bringing the food back was one thing, but the impact of the condor's strike lingers amongst the few remains of debris to this day. Parts of Yukino are still yet to be rebuilt and restored from their destruction, and there are farmlands that still need to be ploughed for the planting season.

While I've been worrying about how to best handle the reconstruction (since Gio's been pressuring me to take more and more responsibility to prepare for my eventual ascension), we haven't had much time to spend with each other to talk much about anything. Today has only been the first day the school has reopened – the first day I've been able to spend with any of my friends. As far as I'm aware, Nana's had quite a lot on her plate herself. I can only imagine having to live alone after everything we've been through.

"I'm so _tired,_ " Nana complains, yawning. "I forgot how dry Mrs Meunna's classes can be."

"Or maybe you just need more sleep," I reply pointedly.

She groans loudly as we reach her house, rolling her eyes. "I get enough sleep, _thank you very much_. My nights are very quiet."

Nana doesn't say anything more after, lowering her eyes as she unlocks the door and going quiet. Removing my wetted boots and parka, I find myself quite lost for words once again as I follow her into her room: a small but cosy chamber warmly decorated with all sorts of colours; it neatly juxtaposes the cold of the white light shining in from the bedroom window, faintly frosted and condensed. Not much has changed about it since our childhood: her bed still sports the same woven floral pattern on its sheets, the brightly coloured rug on the floor still remains, and the whole place's as much of a mess as ever in comparison to the rest of the house. It's almost baffling how she can be bothered to keep every room but her own tidy enough to live in.

She flops herself onto the bed, lying on her back so she can still face me as I sit down beside her.

"I feel like I haven't talked to you in ages," I muse.

Nana smiles, chuckling a little. "But we were just talking with Miko and Riko," she replies, looking out of the window by her bed.

"I mean- I mean we haven't, you know, talked to just each other in a while."

"Oh, please. We did that for almost three months," She picks up her old seal plush from behind her pillows, fiddling with it as she reminisces. "Surely you got sick of it."

I shake my head. "Impossible."

It's felt somewhat surreal, not having Nana (quite literally) by my side every morning, every afternoon, every night; she's not peacefully slumbering away next to me when I wake up, or hollering from beneath me as we scale ice, or fixated on the night sky over the mountain range as the stars start to come out. At some point it naturally became routine to have her presence alongside mine every day and night, unlike how we might usually spend our days in the village. But now that we're back _to_ the usual, I can't help but feel a little unsettled by the prospect.

I wouldn't mind going mountain climbing again soon.

"Have you been doing fine on your own?" I ask, leaning back onto the wall. At my question, her smile drops, and she hugs the plush to her chest.

"Yeah."

For a moment, we sit in silence. She stares up at the ceiling while I gaze down towards the floor. The quiet isn't uncomfortable, and it's not like I'm not already used to these little silences, but I don't want it. I don't want to stay quiet any more, or hush my emotions any longer than I already have, or drag it out longer than I need to.

I suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for what's to come.

"Nana?"

"Hm?"

I have to almost force myself to turn my head her way, meeting her lilac gaze. "Are you… um, are you free tomorrow, by any chance?"

She frowns. "Obviously. We don't have classes tomorrow."

Shifting awkwardly where I sit, I look away, squeezing my hands together. I can feel the heat getting to my face as I prepare what I'm about to say in my head, unable to stop my cheeks from reddening as I ask,

"Do you- would you… want to go out tomorrow?" I hesitate, pondering over what to say next. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want-"

"Like a date?"

I jerk up as my head snaps back towards Nana, who's now sat up wide-eyed as she stares back at me, her face also starting to turn as pink as her pinafore. A grin starts to creep onto her lips again when she notices me try to avert my gaze, though, and I hear her start to giggle as I freeze up.

My voice suddenly isn't as loud as I would have liked it to be.

"… If you want."

I don't think I've ever felt so hot. My face feels like it's burning and I want to bury it in my lap and hide and curl up and scream. It takes all my willpower for me to not just dash out of Nana's room and run all the way back home to cool off. Then maybe I could just laugh it off tomorrow and pretend I was joking around the way she does or something.

Of course, there's no way she'd actually _believe_ me.

When I finally pluck the courage to look back up, there's a soft breath brushing past my cheek and curious eyes fascinated by my blush. She's made her way over to me from across the bed and now sits right by my side, intently observant. I can't bring myself to return her intense stare, so I focus on the opposing wall instead, tightly gripping the cloth of my jumper.

"I didn't hear you," she smirks cheekily. "What was that?"

It's a hobby of Nana's to push me past my breaking point when it comes to situations like these. Especially when she knows she's getting deep under my skin. Around her, I can't play off my emotions the same way I might around anyone else; I can't wear the mask of tranquillity, because she's already seen what's beneath it. Her closeness to me isn't making it any easier for me to pretend I'm not

"… I- Isaiditcanbeadateifyouwant," I reply quickly, still unable to look her in the eye. At this, she only bursts into more fits of laughter, clearly enjoying my embarrassment at her forwardness as her smile grows wider.

She turns so that she's sat on the edge of the bed, now turned away from me, though she's still grinning in amusement. I notice her hands move to her braids, twirling them between her fingers.

After a short silence, she finally replies,

"Yes. I'd like that."

* * *

No matter how much I might try to neaten my hair even a _little_ bit, it never seems to cooperate. I now understand Nana's complaints about her own tangles and bed hair in the mornings.

" _Have you seen my hair?"_

I can't help but chuckle a bit at the memory of her dramatic exclamation, months ago when we were still out on our journey. Even in the harshest of times she wanted to look her best – so she could look good while she was beating up the condor, she'd said.

Bed hair or not, she looks great either way.

I sigh with frustration after (attempting to) comb through my bangs for the umpteenth time in an effort to make them stay tame, only for strands of hair to start spiking back up out of place all over again. I'm about to throw the comb out of the window when I hear a familiar raspy voice from outside my room-

"What's the occasion, son?"

I turn around to face Gio's inquisitive gaze poking from behind my bedroom door. He grins warmly beneath his fading grey hair, observing me carefully.

"I'm going out later.

"With Nana?"

I can only nod in response as I feel the heat start to blossom in my cheeks again, turning back to the small mirror.

Gio laughs softly. "You look fine, kid. She'll say that whether you try brushing that mess out or not." Then I hear his heavy steps fade away as he leaves me to my devices, still chuckling at my flustered response.

As I return my own gaze in the mirror, I study myself conscientiously, taking in my plain appearance. Messy brown hair. Round blue eyes. A sleepy-looking face. It amazes me how it could possibly appeal to anyone, but then I remember what I'm out to do today and why I'm doing all of this. _Honestly, Nana…_

Pondering over myself, I put my hands to my face, squeezing myself a little as my head becomes even more bombarded with worries. It feels like I should be doing more than physically preparing myself and just going to meet her.

Something grand, something big, something impressive and romantic. (I have experience in none of those things.) I try to rack my brains for what I could be missing: the perfect something to make her smile, make her laugh, make her heart warm-

_Flowers._

"Oh, no, I forgot to- _agh!_ "

I don't even think to say goodbye to Gio as I dash out of the house, throwing my parka on and hastily shoving my feet into my boots. Thankfully, the merchants' street isn't terribly far from my own abode, so I'm able to make my way to the nearest florist relatively quickly enough. When I'm finally able to push my way through the abundant crowd of buyers and sellers, I manage to stop to take a breath, exhausted from my rush; the seller behind the flower stall can only gape in awe at me, mortified.

"Mr Fuyu," she exclaims in shock. "Whatever's the matter?"

"F… flowers, I- I need..." I have to constantly pause to catch my breath, unable to make anything I say sound remotely coherent as I keel over. I almost collapse head-first into the winter blossoms, their scent enveloping my nostrils. There's sweet ones, exotic ones, strong ones, plain ones – but none that I can be certain will be perfect for Nana. Beautiful as some of them may be, there's a range from mountain lilies and pansies of warmer regions to harebells and heathers, all a myriad of colours and extravagant petals, but as far as I can see, there's not a single one of the blossom that I'm looking for:

"Do- do you have any camellias?"

The old woman shakes her head. "Sold out yesterday, I'm afraid." She sighs, rearranging some of the flora on display. "None of these are to your liking?"

"I'm afraid not," I reply dejectedly. After I bid the florist an apology, I decide to briefly scan through some of the other flower stalls; sure enough, not a single one is able to fulfil my desire of the elegant pink bloom, most either not selling them at all or having no stock like the first stall. I return back home empty-handed.

I gaze up at the sky, studying the sun's position in the sky behind the clouds. It's almost time for me to meet Nana.

For a short while, I sit on the steps to my abode, contemplating my next move. In my internal excitement of having been accepted yesterday, it hadn't dawned on me that there was more than meets the eye for me to prepare to ensure that today goes as smoothly as possible, and to make it the best it can be. They say first impressions are the most lasting.

As I look around engrossed in my thoughts, I notice a minuscule plant poking from beneath the snow by my feet, nearby the corner of the steps. Its flower hangs down gracefully with dainty white petals, looking much like little wings on their verdant bulbs. They're small, nothing like the lavish blossoms brought to our village by merchants far and wide, but pretty nonetheless, resembling the gentle snowfall of the season.

Eventually, I give in, sighing. "I guess I'll have to improvise."

I carefully pull the little snowdrop from the ground, taking a couple of its neighbours along with it so that I have myself a modest bunch of them in my grasp, ready to gift. Compared to the dazzling floral arrangements I saw moments earlier, they're only a fraction of their beauty, much to my dismay. It takes a little reassurance for me to be fully satisfied with what little I've put together for her: all but a tiny bouquet of snowdrops I picked from the ground outside my house.

I haven't even thought of where we're going yet.

When I look back up to the clouds, the sun seems to have moved at a worryingly fast pace, prompting me to get up from the steps. Luckily, Nana's house isn't an incredible distance from my own either, so I sigh with relief, comforted that I'll be able to get at least _one_ thing right for today. So I turn on my heel and begin the journey.

Something tugs and pulls at what feels like my entire body the moment I reach the door. My arms are completely paralysed, unmoving no matter how much I will myself to knock.

I squeeze the snowdrops tightly in my left hand while determinedly staring down the wood before me, taking deep breaths as I mutter words of reassurance to myself again. For years I got away with my cunning deception and pretences to hide behind. Now they're all breaking apart, cracking and melting.

I take in a sharp breath and knock on the door.

" _There_ you are," an irritated voice grumbles. The door opens to reveal a pair of loose bunches – long hair tied and arranged similarly to her typical braids over her chest, minus the braids themselves – complementing her signature pink parka. Instead of her usual red hair bands, though, her hair's been secured with two red ribbons, tied neatly into cute bows near the ends of her locks; it's reminiscent of the way she used to do her hair when we were a bit younger, only somewhat more fashionable. Throughout the years, Nana's experimented a lot when it comes to hairstyles and the like. None of them have failed her so far.

I can only look away in shame as I scratch my head. "Sorry. I got caught up with… stuff. I didn't realise I took that long."

She huffs in response, an eyebrow raised at me. Then her gaze moves to my clenched hand by my side.

"What's that?"

I'm initially startled, then I remember what made me take so long. Slowly, I stretch my hand out towards Nana, revealing the (now slightly crumpled) snowdrops. I can't bear to look her in the eye with what I've decided is a fitting "gift" for her.

It's hard not to stumble over my words uncontrollably in my reply. "I- I wanted to, you know- to get you something. For today."

At first, she only stares down at the uprooted bulbs, looking as unimpressed as ever. Her face looks like the picture of disappointment, eyes lowered and a grimacing mouth; this only makes me freeze up further, as I stand before her unsure and uncertain. Maybe now would be a good time to run away.

But slightly – ever so slightly – her gaze starts to melt into a soft smile, faint but present nonetheless as her mirage of dissatisfaction fades away, gently taking the flowers from my hand and observing them carefully. "Snowdrops," she murmurs, turning them between her fingers.

The smile on her face isn't the overjoyed beam I'd hoped for, looking so uncharacteristically placid and quiet.

When she looks back up to face me, the same smile remains as she thanks me. "They're beautiful," she says. "You didn't have to."

I can only remain silent, nodding in reply. We stand unmoving for a little while as she continues to scrutinise the flowers, my heart thumping loudly all the while. I'm stuck. I'm shivering. I'm frozen.

I almost jump when she speaks again with that honeyed voice of hers.

"… Should we get going, then?"

* * *

Today feels surreal.

Something tells me that if I fall over, or hit a tree, or pinch myself or something, I'll wake up from this dream and return to reality. I'll be back in my bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wondering what to do with my life.

The snow on the ground crunches softly as our feet plod through the forest path, ambling through the trees. It's a cool, clear day with a gentle breeze swaying through the woods, so no flakes of snow flutter down from the skies today, but the remnants of yesterday's snowfall lie peacefully on the ground, the layers significantly thickened.

With each step I leave behind on the path, my heart beats loudly. It's all I can hear in my head: the heavy, startling thumping in my chest, like the rhythmic strikes of an ice axe into frozen sheets. Everything else seems to be muffled by the noisy thumps, clouding any other sounds that might be wandering around me. I can do nothing but concentrate hard on the endless mounds of snow ahead in a feeble attempt to distract myself.

Nana and I have been down this trail many times. We've passed every tree within these woods on countless occasions and grown with the flora and fauna over the years, with every step we've taken down it. I know the woodland paths almost as well as the roads around the village.

Yet I can't shrug off the feeling that I'm going to get lost amongst the trees.

"It's always nice being here," Nana muses by my side. There's a springy skip in her step, like she wants to hurry on ahead, but her feet drag instead, matching my own pace. I can see her violet gaze peering curiously at me from the corner of my eye.

I continue to look onwards. "The atmosphere's peaceful."

"Yeah."

Once again, the silence falls and settles between us, unmoving, frozen, still. It seems to blanket the air, perturbed only by the continuous, gentle crunch of the snow below. We walk. We look around. And it's all quiet, all calm. There's no room for distractions.

The more I focus on our surroundings, the louder the sound of my own footsteps seems to grow, significantly heavier than Nana's. As we walk, I miss not one step, pacing myself forward with precision:

Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left-

"Are you tired?"

I almost stumble over myself. Our stroll skids to a halt, and Nana's turned to me, a serious look etched onto her face.

Her gaze is unwavering, stubbornly focused on my own; fists clenched, eyebrows creased, and a miserable pout to top it all off, all pointedly lain upon me. As my eyes meet hers, my bones seem rattled by her piercing glare, sending shivers down my spine.

I open my mouth to answer only to shut it once more, hesitant to answer. Eventually, I'm left with no choice but to settle with a barely cohesive "I- I mean, we…"

"… we can stop somewhere if you, if you want- um, if you're tired, that is."

At this, she only raises an eyebrow, unamused as she crosses her arms. Then she rolls her eyes and strides on ahead in a huff.

She's a fair ways ahead of me now, her pace quicker and more accented than mine as she heads over to an enormous pine tree. It's the largest in the forest, standing tall and mighty within the central depths amongst the rest of the flora, much like the Icicle Mountain of our realm; the encircling trees might as well be saplings compared to it.

By the time I reach the tree, she's already plopped down in front of it, hugging her knees to her chest as she glances off to the side of her. She doesn't bother to turn for even a second to acknowledge me as I settle down next to her.

It suddenly seems to have gotten colder.

I lean back against the trunk of the tree, gazing out upon the plethora of snow-capped greenery before us. Only the trees and the occasional snowdrops lie ahead. The scenery is as still and unmoving as before – only we've become one with the stillness too. We're quiet. We're alone. But we're… together?

Nana's gaze seems to move further away from me as I turn to her. Most of her visage is concealed by her thick tufts of hair beneath her hood, hiding her eyes, but I don't have to see them to know that she's avoiding my own. I can only assume it's the same for my words, stuck in my throat the moment I open my mouth to say them. She takes no notice.

I wish I could say we're just peacefully relishing in each other's company with no need for words, or something sweet and romantic like that. But it feels like rather the opposite.

"What did you ask me out today for?"

Another shiver rattles down my spine as she suddenly speaks. Her voice is ice cold – almost as chilling as the breeze passing through the forest, and it only seems to freeze me over even more.

"Well, I guess I thought- I just, I just felt like...we haven't spent-"

"Much time together?" she interrupts, raising an eyebrow again. "I agree. I mean, we haven't had a proper conversation for _ages_." Then she looks up, facing me directly now. "See, the thing with conversations is – you have to _talk_ to have them. Y'know?"

I'm aware. But it's easier said than done, _you know_.

I know better than to actually say that, so I keep the words stored away in my head and carry on with my mute pretence.

"That's your _cue_ , chatterbox." She gives me a firm nudge.

Sucking in a deep breath, with my heart thumping louder than ever, I turn to meet Nana's glare – not quite eye-to-eye, but glancing enough so I'm clearly acknowledging her. The same frown is still etched onto her face, unmoving.

I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you should be."

Apparently a pathetic apology is all I can manage.

As I'm left to wallow in my grappling thoughts once more, her stare remains fixated upon me – those stone-cold eyes, unwavering from their target, like her sheer willpower will coax the words she wants to hear from my mouth or something. Words I'd be more than willing to deliver if I knew what they were.

The heat in my face starts to flare up again, washing over me like scorching flames. It's burning, eating away at me, my lips wobbling as I _try_ to find the words, try to string the letters together, try to express these emotions, but instead of connecting the way I want them to they just pile up and clutter my thoughts even more in a big tangle, muddled and messy and crowded and-

"Forget it. Let's go home."

My head snaps back up, and I watch Nana get up from the ground beside me to leave. At first I can only gawk at her figure as she gets further away, but the first words that come to mind leave my mouth instead:

"Nana, wait-"

"I've waited _enough_!" she snaps. When she turns back, gone is the dead grimace that graced her face moments earlier. Instead, there's a blazing fire burning fervently, its heat bursting at me as she glares back.

Her eyes glow bright, but not with the light I'd hoped for.

She clenches her fists again and starts off in the other direction. "I- how do you _expect_ me to feel? What am I supposed to do when I can't read you _at all_? What- _why_ am I even here? What do you want? I don't-" - she stops in her tracks momentarily, trembling - "I don't know what you wanted to get out of this, or what the whole _point_ of dragging me here was, but whatever it might have been, you're not getting it across."

There's another deadly silence as she pauses for a breath, inhaling and slowly exhaling. Her eyes are shut, and momentarily her lecture appears to have ended. Neither of us speak; she too weary to utter another word, and I too shameful to make a move.

"I… I don't understand you. You and your vagueness, your words, your silences, you…" Voice trailing off, head hanging low, she stands rooted in the snow.

"Just say it properly, Popo. Say what you feel, say _something,_ say… say anything, I just want you to talk to me. _Tell_ me something."

I have so many things to say. I've waited so many years to tell them all to you. But I don't have the clarity or the words or the voice to say the simplest thing-

to say those three words you want to hear.

They say actions speak louder than words, but what do you do when you don't have the volume loud enough to communicate through either of them? The question circles my mind as I gaze hopelessly after Nana's distant figure, lonely and coldly turned away.

She's listening intently, I can tell, but I have my doubts that she'll hear me – hear what I mean to say – if I so much as try to speak. Because the words will spill over and entangle themselves like they always do. This isn't the first time I've pondered over how I'd arrange them, how I'd present them perfectly and beautifully just for her, how I'd deliver the emotions behind them from my heart to her own; the fanciful fantasy crossed my mind countless times. I just never seized the opportunity.

Opportunities were plentiful, to say the least. It was more a question of whether it was the right choice to take them: whether I should open up the bottle and pour everything out or keep it closed tight. I could only hope with the latter option that the contents of the bottle would eventually fade away with time – given my current predicament, of course, that was never going to be the case.

Atop that faraway peak, when death seemed only certain, only then did I start to open the bottle with my dying breaths. The contents spilled out drop by drop after lying in wait for many a year. And it's because I finally poured them out that I'm standing where I am now, yet… I find myself unable to do so again, right now when it matters most, when she can finally _listen_. I no longer hold the words to open the bottle again.

So I open it the only other way I know how.

Slowly, I make my way over to Nana. She pretends not to take any notice, continuing to gaze off with her arms by her sides and her fists clenched. But I know very well she's listening. Between us, only the sounds of our breaths and the crunch of my steps in the snow moves the air, shakily and softly, until I stand just behind her.

I hesitate. Then I extend my arms and gently embrace Nana, pulling her closer.

Her silent stillness turns into a paralysing stiffness the moment she feels me, and I hear her suck in a sharp breath. I keep my eyes tightly shut, concentrating on my heart instead: the emotions, the memories, the likes and the dislikes and all the little details in-between; everything I ever wanted to say in words packaged into one familiar gesture.

The warmth envelops me- envelops us, guiding my mind away from the ominous thump of my heartbeat. The more I indulge myself in my heart, in the bliss and joy of my feelings, in the memories and presence of her, the fainter the thumps grow.

Eventually, Nana loosens as well, and she exhales slowly. Her hand moves to reach for my own, clasped around her, and I pull her closer as they join, burying my face into her shoulder. The familiar scent of vibrant spices draws close; it's warm – comfortably warm – and my eyes gradually open, looking upon the profile of her visage.

Her long bangs are covering her eyes, but I can feel her apprehensive gaze. The distasteful frown on her lips has melted into a tentative smile, uncertain but there nonetheless, and the pigment in her cheeks is as rosy as her parka.

She sighs again. "… You see? It's not _that_ hard."

I feel my chest start to tense up again, only this time the will to fight it surfaces (with good timing). When I remember it's just me and Nana, Nana and I, it all starts to feel a bit better.

Gently pulling away, I reply, "I suppose it isn't."

We exchange faint smiles, and I allow myself to take a better look at Nana standing across from me. Our eyes meet, and she returns an expectant gaze. That's my cue.

"I…" I scratch the back of my neck, mentally laying the words in place, in the right arrangement. Then I take a deep breath and continue.

"Thank you for coming out with me today. I- I'm sorry it wasn't much fun."

She grins, giggling at my embarrassment with that melodic laughter of hers. "You're not wrong," she sighs. "It was pretty dull." Her hands move to her bunches, fidgeting with her locks tied beneath the ribbons and twirling them between her fingers. "Doesn't mean I don't appreciate your company, though."

It's hard for me not to smile at that. "Well, I'm glad it wasn't _all_ bad."

"That'd be impossible going anywhere with you," she laughs. Then she looks away, a somewhat timid look coming across her face instead. "I'm… sorry too, Popo."

"For what?"

"For doubting you," she replies, brushing her bangs out of her face. "I- I mean, you wouldn't have asked me out like this if you didn't-"

Silence falls again as she stops mid-sentence, her face reddening. Her eyes start darting everywhere, attempting to avoid my gaze, but I find myself unable to take my eyes off of my flustered mess of a friend.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "If I didn't…?"

My question is only met with an astonished glare – not nearly as sour as her previous ones, but still intimidating – with just as much perplexity. The vague hostility's quickly taken back though, as she shakes her head and looks away with more uncertainty than annoyance. Then she asks:

"You- I… are, y'know, are we- um…"

She trails off, but her gaze meets mine again.

It takes me a second to comprehend what she's asking.

" _Ah_ , uh… well, I guess- we…" The rise of heat in my face resurfaces, and everything seems to be paralysing and freezing in place all over again, holding me in place and back and away-

"Okay, there's the answer."

"Huh?"

Just like that, she's returned to her cheeky self as she stands there entertained by my dubiety. I can only blink in further confusion as she bursts into laughter.

"Just testing you," Nana smirks. Coming closer to me, I can't help but flinch as her breath brushes past my neck. Then she whispers into my ear, "Don't sweat it. The feeling's mutual."

I can only stare back at her in bewilderment after she pulls away with the same mischievous grin etched onto her face. She's struggling to stifle her laughter as she looks over me, gawking back at her in red-faced disbelief like the hopeless mess of emotions I've turned into.

This time, however, the flood of emotions is nothing like the last wave – not like the paralysing icicles that stunned me moments earlier; it's like the exhilaration of being on top of the highest peak in the world, that blend of blissful pride and joy coupled with the astonishment and amazement of _being_ there, of having come so far. It's wonderfully reminiscent of our own ascent mere weeks ago, our journey that we completed together, hand in hand, side by side, as one.

When I'm able to compose myself and really look at her, though, a soothing wave of relief splashes over me. Because she's the person who's been by my side for almost as far back as I can remember; she's laughed and cried and smiled with me through the years; she's a ray of sunshine in the darkest of times (even if she's sometimes a blazing ball of fire); she's held on to our ropes as tightly as I ever have, and it's in this moment that I realise:

she won't let go any time soon.

I return her contagious smile, making my way over to her. She's trying her best to muffle her snickers from behind a gloved hand, but the traces of her grin are plain in her gaze.

Taking her other hand into my own, I say,

"Then we'd better get going."


End file.
